When The Walls Come Tumbling Down
by Your Angel of Music
Summary: Before new foundations can be built, old walls have to be demolished. Following their explosive argument and reconciliation, Christian and Syed still have a lot of issues to resolve - what will happen when the walls come tumbling down?


**Title:** When The Walls Come Tumbling Down  
><strong>Author:<strong> MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)  
><strong>RatingWarnings:** M - sexual situations.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Right up to Black Friday.

**Summary:** Before new foundations can be built, old walls have to be demolished. Christian and Syed still have a lot of issues to resolve - what will happen when the walls come tumbling down?

**A/N:** My beta, **lady in waiting**, is currently in the middle of a drama production. This means I am patiently awaiting the next few chapters of my fic. But, in the meantime, I decided to finish this. I started it the day after Black Friday, but it quickly fell of the radar as I chickened out. But I felt it needed finishing. I hope it meets with your approval.

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><p>x<p>

**When The Walls Come Tumbling Down**

x

Christian's arms were like a cocoon spun around Syed's body: holding him tightly and securely so that nothing else could possibly break through. Syed hooked his arms around the strong back, his fingers intertwining just beneath the ridge of his shoulder blades as he closed his eyes.

As comforted as he felt within the embrace, he couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, the caterpillar was protecting the cocoon from the inside.

Eventually, however, he realised that they were still standing on the doorstep in full view of the Square. A sudden embarrassment crept into his cheeks as he pulled back slightly, feeling Christian's arms tighten reflexively as he moved to break the embrace.

"Christian," he smiled, resting his hands on Christian's forearms. "I need to breathe."

Christian quickly loosened his hold, dropping his hands so that they rested on Syed's waist – only gently; tentatively almost, like the brush of an insect's wing against his flesh.

"Sorry," he glanced over Syed's shoulder, as if suddenly realising that they had just aired at least a small part of their dirty laundry in public. "You wanna come inside?"

Syed hesitated slightly – to stop through that door really was to step into a whole new world, a new life, something he couldn't turn away from. A new stage in their relationship. A sometimes frighteningly unexplored avenue.

It was only the slightest of pauses, but Christian's face seemed to drop; shoulders tensing, eyes darkening.

"You don't have to," the expected anger wasn't there, as if it had been wrung out of him by the ferocity of their embrace. "If you don't want to."

Syed took a breath.

"No," he smiled again. "Let's go inside."

As he crossed the threshold, the first thing that struck him was the smell. Over time, their flat had absorbed the smells that had defined them – the washing powder they used, their favourite foods, Christian's aftershave, that faint, not-entirely-pleasant-to-outsiders aroma that accompanied two men living together in a confined space. This flat was new. It smelt of other people, of other lives, of something that was decidedly un-_them_.

"I haven't really had time to unpack," Christian folded his arms as he stepped further into the flat; his eyes fixed attentively on Syed, as if gauging each twitch of his face and each flick of his eyes for a reaction. "Once we put our own stamp on it, it'll feel a bit more like…y'know…_home_."

Syed looked back at him, flashing a quick smile.

"Well, anywhere's home for me as long as you're there."

He turned back towards the main kitchen area, missing the strained expression that took hold of Christian's face. Instead, his eyes scanned the sight before him. Most of the boxes lay strewn haphazardly about the place, stacked into teetering piles as he wormed his way through. But there was one box that was unpacked. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he walked towards it.

"Trust you to unpack the coffee machine first," he took a firm grasp of the handle, his other hand reaching for the tap. "Always best to get some caffeine in you before you unpack. How strong d'you want it this time?"

"Sy, stop it."

The words cut through the air, sending fearful confusion flooding into Syed's bloodstream. He turned tentatively to face Christian: he was standing stock still, eyes on the floor and his arms crossed tightly across his chest as if he were physically holding himself together.

"What?"

"Stop doing what you think you need to do to make me happy."

Syed blinked, the confusion boiling within him as Christian averted his gaze.

"I'm not."

"Really?" Christian looked at him, a different kind of anger flaring in his eyes – not anger at Syed, but a new, different, heartbreaking anger. "So the whole 'home's anywhere you are' thing isn't you just saying what you think I need to hear?"

Syed's fists clenched by his sides, spasms of pain jerking his heart as Christian turned desperate, accusing eyes on him.

"No," he stepped forward, his hands curling and uncurling around thin air as he withstood Christian's gaze. "I meant it. I meant every word. I always did."

He swallowed hard, finding it increasingly difficult to keep the mask in place.

"But you don't believe me."

"It's not that," Christian's eyes softened as he sank onto a nearby box, his face dropping into his hands; he stayed like that for a moment, like a thoughtful statue, before he lifted his gaze and rested his chin on his knuckles. "It's just…all I ever wanted was to make you happy. But it's like I don't know you anymore. I don't know what you want. I can't read you anymore. And that's not your fault, it's mine – I just…how did I not see…I don't…I don't know what's gone wrong."

An awkward silence hung in the air, the euphoria of their initial reunion dissipating in the wake of unresolved issues and uncertain emotions. Syed clenched his fists, the veins popping from the back of his hands as he shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say.

"I want you," he managed eventually; well aware that that wasn't enough; but it was the only thing he could say. Christian let out a resigned little huff, pressing his index fingers against his lips.

"At the expense of anything else?"

"No…I…"

"I didn't mean it, you know."

Syed blinked once again, his fingers uncurling as a frown creased his face. He was about to ask, but Christian went on:

"I don't want a kid at the expense of you."

The pain of before gripped Syed's heart in a tight fist; the hurt, the heartache, the sharp ache of rejection pulsing through him. It was visceral, scratching incessantly at him with an intensity he couldn't ignore. Suddenly, forgiveness seemed a little bit harder.

"It sounded like you meant it," the words were quiet but shaky, pushing their way from Syed's mouth with a force that made Christian flinch. "It sounded like you meant every word."

Christian took a quick breath, his voice muffled slightly as the pressure of his fingers against his lips increased.

"I did at the time," he dropped his hands, eyes flicking towards Syed. "Because I thought I did. It all built up in my head – it was all I could think about. I didn't think. I _couldn't _think. But…then I was here, on my own, and I thought: _I don't want this_. Because I don't, Sy, I don't want this without you. I want a kid, but I want one with _you_."

Syed held his gaze, a tiny shiver travelling up his spine.

"You hurt me," he whispered, his body still tensed; like a coiled spring. "I thought you didn't want me enough to…to wait for me…that's all I wanted…"

He could feel his eyes prickling; Christian's eyes began to shine in response, guilt gathering as tiny droplets in the corners. He stood up, moving towards Syed and breaking through the tense barrier to grab his hands.

"You're my reason, for _everything_," his voice caught, fingers squeezing desperately on Syed's hands. "I want this with you, whatever it takes, however long I have to wait."

Syed glanced down at their intertwined hands, the niggling doubts pushing down on the hope that was rising within him. His fingers remained lax in Christian's hungry hold as he searched Christian's face.

"I'm scared," he fixed their gazes, trying to pour every single fear, every uncertainty, from his eyes into Christian's. "That you won't mean that in a few weeks time."

"I will."

"How do you know?"

Christian paused for a second, his sincerity travelling down his arms and into Syed's hands like an electric shock.

"Because you're the one thing I have ever been consistent about," he relaxed his hands, as if waiting for Syed to reciprocate of his own volition. "You're the only thing that hasn't been fleeting – the only thing that hasn't been for cheap thrills. The one thing I ever cared enough about to stick to. I love you. I always will. And I want this _with_ you."

Syed breathed in sharply, holding it within his chest.

"You're sure?"

"I am if you are."

There was a beat - and then Syed gently curled his fingers around Christian's hands.

"I do want a family with you. But I'm going to need…I mean…I'm never going to be as certain as you are. I can't be. I'm scared. That doesn't mean I don't want it but it means…well…sometimes I'm going to question things. And I need you to listen. I don't want to keep _anything_ from you."

Christian stepped closer, pressing their entwined hands between their chests.

"I want you. I want you as _you_. That's all I ever wanted."

"And if I need time…"

"We've got the rest of our lives. It just…took me a bit too long to realise that," Christian suddenly dropped his head, averting his gaze as if a shameful weight had been slung around his neck. "I should have realised that sooner. And I'm sorry. You deserve better than that."

He made to move away – but Syed locked his fingers, keeping a firm grip on their hands. Christian lifted his head, eyes searching his face; skimming from eyes, across the cheeks and finally coming to rest on his lips. A second seemed to stretch an hour as they stood still: fingers entwined, eyes fixed, breath intermingling in that way that they hadn't even realised they'd missed.

And then Syed had pulled his hand away, raising his arm to cup Christian's cheek in his palm and bring their lips together. They met with a crash that was somehow gentle: a perfectly imperfect conflagration of tender _I-love-you-and-worship-you_ kisses and messy, desperate _don't-you-ever-fucking-leave-me-again_ hunger. It was clear to Syed that Christian had been holding back, waiting, pausing to make sure that Syed had made the first move.

It was a caring gesture that Syed appreciated – but, right at that moment, with the temperature of the room increasing at a speed that could challenge the space shuttle, it was something he could really do without.

He pulled back, one hand still fused with Christian's and the other plastered to the warm skin at the back of his neck; their foreheads were rested against one another, as if they had been born meshed together, and the sound of heavy breathing was filling the foreign air with comforting familiarity.

"Can we stop pretending I'm made of glass and get on with it?"

Christian's eyes darkened deliciously – but there was obviously something playing on his mind, holding him back.

"Are you sure?"

Syed felt frustration fluttering in his stomach; but, then again, it might have something more physical stirring a little lower.

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"But we...I mean, I…" his free hand was fiddling absent-mindedly with the hair that brushed the top of Syed's ear. "I hurt you. I kicked you out. Don't you want to wait?"

Syed tightened his grip on the back of Christian's neck, pulling him forward so that their mouths were a hairs-breadth from one another – they could almost taste each other.

"When I hurt you, you took me back straight away," his eyes flicked back to Christian's lips. "You forgave me, gave me a second chance. I'm just returning the favour."

He grinned suddenly; wickedly.

"And my mum's couch really isn't that comfy, so you have some making up to do. Help me release the tension, you know?"

Before Syed had time to gauge Christian's reaction, he found himself pinned against a warm, solid frame, rough lips scraping over the side of his neck as a hand crept under the back of his shirt. His eyes slithered shut as fingers began to knead his spine, pressing his hand against Christian's neck to keep him pinned at his throat. A tiny, low noise escaped him – normally, it would have been almost undetectable, but from Christian's vantage point he felt every single vibration rattling through his lips. A chuckle reverberated against his flesh.

"You really _can't_ deal with one night without me, can you?"

Syed slapped lightly at the back of Christians's head, his eyes still half closed as he was manoeuvred through into their new bedroom – not quite theirs yet, he knew, but that state of affairs was about to be rectified.

"Shut up," Christian did that thing with his tongue against his pulse point, and he paused to suck in a breath. "Smug git."

Christian responded by pushing him down – somehow once again combining a rough urgency with an apologetic tenderness that made Syed's heart melt – onto the sheet-covered mattress in the centre of the stacked boxes. He surged up as Christian joined him, hooking an arm around the back of his neck and forcing him down to meet him. Christian responded languidly, his fingers gently brushing along Syed's stubble as they let themselves revel in this single, fleeting moment; no outside influences, no tension, no unspoken worries, no interferences – just them, the here, the _now_.

But, eventually, the urgency of his frenetically beating heart cut them off; Syed's hands worked their way underneath the clothes preventing him from touching Christian properly, pulling off his shirt, divesting him of his trousers, pausing only to help as Christian returned the favour. Shedding their clothes was like shedding their masks, discarding the falsities that they wore throughout the day to reveal the bare, honest truth. It always made Syed shiver to realise that Christian was the only one who saw him this way – the only one who knew him inside and out, the Syed behind the disguise.

He'd missed the closeness. It had been like starving, gasping for food yet not knowing how to get it; gnawing away at his stomach, cannibalising himself until he became accustomed to the pain. But, now that sustenance was finally being offered, the pain of abstinence became acute – his hunger overwhelmed him, and all he wanted was more, more, _more. _

The warmth of lips and tongue against his skin was the only thing he could focus on;, the wet brush of contact travelling down his chest, his stomach - a hilariously chaste kiss to the inside of his thigh pushing a barely contained giggle from his throat.

He felt Christian smile against the flesh of his leg, grinning teeth nipping at his skin and moving upwards just those last few millimetres…

"Christian!"

The hammering on the door made them jerk in surprise: Syed propping himself up on shaky arms as Christian twisted his head as far as he could (given his current position).

"_Christian!_"

The man in questioned groaned, his face disappearing between Syed's legs as if he could hide from the shrill tones. Syed nudged the side of his head with his thigh, one hand playing reassuringly with the hairs on the back of his neck.

"You should probably get that."

"I don't want to," Christian voice was muffled against the skin of Syed's thigh – had the frustration not been gripping him with painful claws, Syed would have struggled not to laugh at the petulance of his tone.

"She means well," he nudged again, pressing his fingers against Christian's neck pointedly until he raised his head. "You should probably talk to her. Explain things."

Something wicked suddenly stirred in Christian's eyes, like a lasso emerging from his irises and cutting off Syed's oxygen supply. Through the stress of trying to keep everyone happy; of concealing how he really felt; of the tensions that had bubbled away; he'd forgotten how gloriously evil Christian could be.

As Syed suddenly felt himself enveloped in the warm, wet heat of Christian's mouth, the part of him that was still capable of coherent thought began to understand just what that look had meant. His eyes slid shut, fingers burying themselves in Christian's hair – wishing, not for the first time, that he would grow his hair just that _little_ bit longer – as his body reacted in a way that was so primal it was verging on animalistic. His every instinct told him to go with it – but he forced his eyes open, arching off the bed before he could gain proper control of his muscles.

"Christian…Roxy…_door…_have to explain…"

Christian surfaced, his hand creeping up his chest to push him back down onto the bed.

"If we need to be explaining things, we might as well give her something that we have to explain."

"But…" _why am I arguing_? "…she's at the door. What are you doing?"

That smile - a grin that would have made the devil himself blush - suddenly softened, adoration and apology shining in Christian's eyes. Syed felt like he was being penetrated by the stare; somehow, it was more intimate than anything else they'd done so far.

"I'm putting you first," Christian licked his lips, fingers moving in tiny circles on Syed's chest. "Finally."

The gaze lingered for a few more moments. Syed brushed a hand across Christian's forehead, tucking an imaginary hair behind his ear before threading his fingers through the short locks. It was contact, pure and simple – contact that was reassuring and cathartic in its simplicity.

And then Christian was on him again, soft and urgent, one hand pressing down on his hip whilst the other scrabbled for his hand. With one hand looped through Christian's fingers and one still buried in Christian's scalp, Syed felt like they were an electrical circuit, shooting sparks of energy in a constant repetition between them. His eyes closed as Christian pushed all the right buttons – just the right touch, just the right amount of pressure, just the right flick of his tongue, touch of his teeth, stroke of his lips…

Christian could be selfish. He knew that. In a strange way, it was part of his charm – a childishness that meant he went for what he wanted and he didn't give up. That selfishness was one of the reasons that they had come out of that awful year united. He knew that the rest of the world could see it as a negative trait – but they had never seen him in the bedroom (at least, he hoped most of the people on the Square hadn't). Christian was unflinchingly unselfish as a lover – he gave and he kept giving. Even that first time, he seemed to get off on Syed's pleasure rather than anything else; even before there were emotions tied up in it, Christian had given and given and given and put Syed above himself.

Syed often felt that it was in the bedroom that they realised who they truly were. They stripped everything away. There were no barriers between them. And once again, as one final stroke of Christian's tongue sent him jerking and groaning into orgasm, he was reminded of just how loving, how giving, how unselfish Christian was at heart.

Whatever he did, however he acted: that was the truth.

As Syed's breathing began to even out, he was vaguely aware of Christian crawling up the length of his body. He opened his eyes, sending a smile in his general direction as Christian wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his chin on his shoulder bone.

"You okay?"

Syed nodded, turning onto his side so that they were facing one another.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

Christian smiled.

"Good," his hand stroked up and down Syed's side, tracing abstract patterns on his skin. "That makes me feel so good – you wouldn't _believe _how good."

Syed arched an eyebrow – as well as he could with the energy seeping gradually back into his muscles – and cast a quick glance downwards.

"I think I've got a good enough idea," he reached down, fingers seeking out warm flesh, searching for that familiarity that he'd missed so much . Christian caught his hand, moving his fingers from Syed's hips to clasp around his wrist.

"You don't have to. I don't need you to."

Syed swallowed, keeping their eyes locked.

"I want to."

He wriggled his hand free, manoeuvring Christian's hand back to his waist before moving back down. Christian's eyes fluttered closed as fingers met nerve endings, his breath deepening as Syed picked up a comfortingly familiar rhythm.

As cheesy, corny, clichéd and otherwise as it sounded: it really was like coming home.

He kept up his movements, making to wriggle downwards, but he was stopped by Christian's hand on the back of his neck; keeping him place, pushing their foreheads together and forcing him to look into blown, hungry eyes.

"Stay there," Christian managed, his voice little more than a guttural whisper. "I wanna look at you."

Syed's fingers worked expertly; he delighted in every twitch of Christian's cheek, every huffing of breath. Being able to watch Christian's face was more exciting, more telling, more emotional than even the most expensive of West End plays. He knew exactly what to do, exactly how to give Christian what he wanted. And he _wanted _to give it. He _wanted _this.

"I thought I'd lost you," Christian's voice had taken on that gravelly tone he always acquired in these situations; his ability to speak during sex was a superpower Syed could never understand, but he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed listening.

"Thought I'd…pushed you away…didn't think…you were coming back…" the rhythm was off, as each few words were punctuated by a short, sharp breath, but the emotion ringing through it was strikingly true. "I love you…didn't mean to hurt you…never wanted that…I'm so…stupid…"

"Shh," Syed pressed his forehead closer, their noses brushing as his free hand wriggled up to cup Christian's cheek. "I know. I know. I love you too."

"You were…scared…why didn't I see…I should have seen…"

Syed twisted his wrist cunningly, cutting Christian off mid-sentence.

"Me being scared is my problem," he kissed the side of Christian's eye, stopping the single tear before it could fall. "My issue. My insecurities."

"I was never…good enough…" the breaths were coming shorter, sharper; though whether from an increase in emotion or his proximity to orgasm, Syed couldn't quite work out. "You were…always…the better one…you deserve…better…"

"I want you," Syed grabbed Christian's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "It's not your place to tell me what I deserve. I know what I want. I want you. I love you. For all your imperfections and your flaws and your insecurities and your selfishness and your idiocy – I love _you_. I will never want anything else. I love you._ I love you_."

It was as if the words, combined with a sudden expert twist of Syed's fingers, sent Christian over the edge; he closed his eyes, letting out a low, guttural breath as his fingers tightened on Syed's waist. The nails dug in as he came, leaving marks that Syed knew would be there the next day. He didn't mind. The physical marks of _this_ were a damned sight preferable to the emotional marks of yesterday's argument.

Christian's arm curled around him as he came down from the rush of endorphins, his body wriggling downwards so that he could snuggle his head in Syed's chest. Syed's brushed his fingers through his fiancés hair, stroking in gentle, hypnotic circles; letting the silence wash over them, curling around them like a comforting blanket.

A breath huffed across Syed's chest, rustling through the hair and sweeping warmly against his skin.

"Sticky."

Syed grinned.

"You wanna get up and do something about it?"

Christian huffed again, his boneless body seeming to sink into Syed's flesh.

"Promise me one thing."

Syed glanced downwards, but Christian's eyes were staring almost vacantly into the distance – a numb sort of bliss, zoned out with contentment.

"What?"

"Let's make sure we never sleep in separate beds again," Christian burrowed his face into Syed's flesh. "I can't deal with it. It's cold. You're warm."

A tiny smile danced on Syed's lips, his heart fluttering with tenderness towards the man in his arms.

"We might have to some time, but never because of an argument," he swallowed suddenly, realisation hitting him full force. "Oh. Oh _no._"

Christian twisted his head, looking up at him with eyes that Syed could only describe as _vulnerable_.

"What?"

"I was supposed to be having dinner with my mother."

Christian blinked. Then he burst out laughing.

"But instead, her precious boy was jerking me off. And being sucked off _by _me. And loving every _second_."

Syed's glared.

"Not helping!"

"And now she's next door as well - she could probably hear us."

"Stop it!"

"Well, not me, obviously. I never did understand why everyone thinks you're the quiet one."

"_Christian!_"

Christian looked up, his eyes twinkling with a mischievousness that would have been annoying had he not looked so exhaustedly blissful.

"I love you. And I'm sorry. I really am."

It was like a warm hand gripping Syed's heart; he leant forward, kissing Christian's forehead softly as the older man began to drift off, pillowed comfortably against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

"I know," he whispered against Christian's hair, feeling all the tension evaporating from his shoulders. "I know. Me too."

It was like something had been knocked down. An old house demolished, walls of silence crumbling down around them – ready for a new foundation.

And, as Syed began to drift off as well, pulled deeper into the recesses of sleep, he couldn't help but think that, finally, they really were going to be alright.

x

x

**Fin**

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><p>Thanks for reading! I started this weeks ago, but finally I'm happy with it. I hope you enjoyed. Please, if you can, let me know what you think - posting your first smut for a couple is a terrifying business!<p> 


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